


i'm a fool for your barely

by hephaesticn



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:03:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4993057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hephaesticn/pseuds/hephaesticn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Have you…” It’s Baz who speaks up first, licks his lips and looks down at their legs. “Have you ever… done this before?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm a fool for your barely

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from open by rhye

They’re sitting, cross-legged on Simon’s bed – Penelope left for America the moment the summer holidays started, and Baz just kind of started inviting himself to their flat, and then one day Simon woke up to the realization that there was a drawer for Baz’s clothes in his bedroom and Baz’s toothbrush in his bathroom, and he thought, _when did that even happen?_ and promptly decided that he honestly didn’t quite care. And so Baz just started… living there, Simon supposes. And the sofa in Simon’s living room is shit, Simon took a nap on it once and ended up with a sore back that lasted for _days_ , and he’s not going to expect Baz to sleep in _Penelope’s_ room either when he stays over, which is basically everyday by this point, and so – and so they share a bed.

And _so_.

They’re both down to their underwear, now, shirts and pants lying in a forgotten heap on the floor, and they’ve made it this far, but – _but_.

They’re not really touching; they’re sitting close enough for their knees to touch, but that’s it. They’re both nervous – or at least, Simon knows _he’s_ nervous, his heart’s pounding so loud he can hear it like a drumbeat in his own ears, and Baz – Baz doesn’t say it, but Simon’s learnt how to read him by now, and he sees the slight furrow of Baz’s brow, the minute tremor of his hands, his lips pressed together into a thin line, and Simon just wants to kiss him but he doesn’t, he _doesn’t_ , because he’s so nervous he can barely even move.

“Have you…” It’s Baz who speaks up first, licks his lips and looks down at their legs. “Have you ever… done this before?”

Simon shakes his head. He’s blushing, red all the way up to the tips of his ears by now, probably, he can feel the heat searing across his cheekbones, and any another time Baz would be teasing him mercilessly about it but this time he just reaches out to take Simon’s hand, squeezing it gently.

“Not even with Wellbelove?”

“Too busy trying to save the world and pass Magical Words at the same time.” Simon smiles, even in spite of himself, and Baz snorts.

“Also I guess I was unknowingly nursing a gigantic crush on you too,” Simon adds, shrugging. Baz rolls his eyes, and Simon bites hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning because _there he is_ , he thinks, the sardonic, sarcastic Baz that he knows so well.

“And to think we could’ve been doing this instead of trying to kill each other,” Baz mutters. Simon laughs, and then he stretches out his legs, flops down on the bed, cradles the back of his head with his hands.

“And what about you, huh?” Simon says it like a challenge. Baz looks away.

“No,” he says, so quietly Simon might’ve missed it.

“Never?”

“Never.”

“Because…”

“Because _you_ , you half-witted dolt.”

Baz chances a look at Simon, and the way he’s looking at Baz right now must be _really_ goopy because Baz looks away from him again immediately, and Simon thinks if Baz could blush the apples of his cheeks would probably be stained a pretty shade of pink right now.

“Did you think about me, then? When you – you know. Jerk off.”

Baz’s still looking away so Simon can’t see the look on his face, but he _does_ see the way Baz swallows, sees the bob of his Adam’s apple in his throat, and suddenly Simon’s throat is feeling very, very dry.

“Really, Snow?” Baz mutters. Simon sits up, circles his arms around Baz’s waist, tries to tug him down onto the bed, but Baz doesn’t budge.

“Yes, really.” Simon grins, rests his chin against Baz’s shoulder, presses a kiss to the skin there. “Please, O Great Master Pitch, please tell me more about your horny teenage fantasies.”

“Well, you weren’t particularly good in any of them,” Baz says. Simon laughs.

“Maybe I could prove that wrong,” Simon ventures.

Baz turns to look at him over his shoulder. His hair’s falling in waves over his forehead, and even in the darkness of the night Simon can still make out his features – his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his mouth – and at once he thinks, _I’m in love with him, I really, really am._

And then Baz shifts, turns towards Simon, allows him to kiss him – properly, a full on kiss on the mouth – and Baz just kind of melts into the kiss, lets himself lean into Simon, and then they’re both on the bed with Baz half-lying on Simon’s stomach.

“Um,” Simon says when Baz finally pulls away. Baz just looks at him, tugs at his briefs.

“Okay?” he asks. Simon gulps, nods, and lets his head fall back, looking at the ceiling as Baz slowly inches off his briefs. There’s a crack in the ceiling, Simon thinks. He should get it looked at. Or he should probably just ask Penny when she gets back, she probably knows some spell to get it fixed, or maybe—

“Hey,” Baz calls. Simon blinks, looks back at Baz who – who is naked now, okay, it’s fine, this is fine, he just – he doesn’t quite know where he look, and also he feels like there’s something in his lungs that’s stopping him from breathing.

“Hey,” he says in response, weakly. Baz’s smile goes a little crooked, and Simon’s thankful he’s lying down because if he was standing up there’s a 100% chance his knees would’ve given out on him right there and then.

Baz is sitting up now, legs folded underneath him, sitting on Simon’s thighs, weighing him down. His hands are on Simon’s chest; his fingers feel like brands on Simon’s skin. Distantly Simon wishes he had a camera with him right now so he could take a photo of this exact moment – of the way Baz looks right now, with his mussed up hair and his lips stained red from kissing and the expanse of pale skin right in front of Simon to touch, to hold, to have—

“Can I,” Baz says, and Simon says, “Yeah, okay, um,” and then Baz’s hands are on him, and _oh_ —

“Baz,” Simon starts to say, and then stops as the ability to form words leaves him all at once – because Baz is touching him, and it feels good, it feels _amazing_ , and then – and then, oh, _fuck_ , Baz shifts, moves his hips forward and his own cock slides against Simon’s, and it’s probably not intentional, judging by the sudden moan that gets punched out of Baz’s chest, but Simon doesn’t really care as long as Baz _does it again_ —

Which he does. He repeats it, more clumsily than before – he’s holding back, a little, and Simon wants to move, hold him, or kiss him, or _something,_ but Baz’s weight anchors him down and all Simon can do is gaze up at him, at Baz with his head lowered and his lips parted, at Baz as he gasps Simon's name quietly, his proper first name. " _Simon_ ," he groans, and it's at the exact moment that Simon thinks his mind explodes.

And so it goes – Baz keeps on stroking Simon, and then at some point he takes the both of them in his hand, and Simon stops fidgeting, lets Baz take control. Eventually he comes, messily, without warning, splatters all over himself and on the bed. Baz follows soon after, and when they’re both done Baz unceremoniously collapses onto what empty space there is on the bed next to Simon.

They’re both panting; Simon watches as Baz reaches over for his wand on their bedside table, spells the mess away.

“Show off,” Simon mutters.

“You’re ruining the mood,” Baz counters.

“What, am I supposed to roll over and light a cigarette now?”

Baz just rolls his eyes.

“You are the most unromantic person in the entire world, Snow,” Baz says, his voice flat. Simon sighs, shifts to pull Baz into his arms.

“And yet here you are,” Simon says. Baz turns to look at him, and there’s a strange look in his eyes that makes Simon’s heart lurch in his chest without warning.

“And yet here I am,” Baz says, quietly.

They don’t speak after that. Simon presses his nose into the crook of Baz’s neck, and Baz’s arms move to rest against Simon’s back.

They fall asleep just like that.


End file.
